


Ship It

by Maiden_of_Asgard



Series: Captain, Captivated [1]
Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avenger Loki (Marvel), Dirty Talk, F/M, IN SPACE!, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki is the Coworker from Hell, Loki won't shut up, Plot What Plot, Reluctant Avenger Loki, Requited Attraction, SHIELD, Smut, Stupid Space Vikings, Tumblr Prompt, Voice Kink, because I can MAKE a plot, but don't tempt me, no y/n
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 03:27:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15654831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiden_of_Asgard/pseuds/Maiden_of_Asgard
Summary: He’s supposed to be teaching you how to work this stupid space-Viking longboat, but Loki’s interests seem to lie elsewhere…





	Ship It

**Author's Note:**

> Someone on Tumblr mentioned Loki dirty talk and like… I have a *thing* for Loki acting all blasé and refusing to shut up while he’s getting down to his seducin’ <3 So here’s this thing. I’mma go hide somewhere now 
> 
>  
> 
> [Original Post](https://maiden-of-asgard.tumblr.com/post/176850855546/ship-it)
> 
>  

“Could you please just  _ shut up _ and tell me how to steer this thing?” you cry out. He’s  _ supposed _ to be teaching you how to work this damned alien longship  _ thing _ for your next mission, and instead, all Loki can seem to manage is vaguely menacing flirtation.

“You  _ wound _ me,” he says, his fingers curling over yours on the tiller handle. “Acting as though my voice pains you, when in fact, I am  _ extremely _ well-renowned for my linguistic aptitude.”

Hopefully, he can’t feel just how  _ warm _ you are right now, but with the way he’s pressed up against your back… you never know. “If… if that’s some kind of set-up for some clich é ‘cunning linguist’ line,” you reply with false bravado, “then I’m pretty sure I’m morally obligated to kill you.”

His fingers tighten around yours, keeping your hand trapped on the tiller, and his other arm suddenly winds around your waist. “Only a  _ little death, _ perhaps?”

_ Damn him, and damn his Victorian-era innuendoes. _

Staring straight ahead at the light streaking past the viewport of the longship, you try to ignore the way he’s slowly stroking your stomach, slipping his hand under your shirt.

_ Maybe _ you shouldn’t have signed up to work on this project. Maybe when he’d sassed off at you the first time you trained together, you shouldn’t have sassed back, because that’s probably what caught his attention in the first place. Maybe that was why he’d started brushing up against you more and more frequently, on missions, in the Tower, the helicarrier, the training room…

Maybe you should’ve put a stop to it, once you’d realized that there was no way on Earth it was accidental. Or maybe, when you went on that week-long mapping expedition on the starship two weeks ago, you shouldn’t have changed in front of him.

You’d told yourself that it was just a matter of  _ practicality _ \- the ship had limited space, after all, and S.H.I.E.L.D. had no stigmas about co-ed locker rooms, so why was Loki seeing you in your underwear any different than any of your other teammates stumbling in unannounced?

But deep down, you knew that it was, because you didn’t have a massive unrequited crush on any of your  _ other _ teammates… no, you had a massive unrequited crush on  _ him. _

Loki’s fingers slide beneath the waistband of your underwear, and you choke back a gasp.  _ Maybe not so unrequited, then. _

“There is a quaint little Midgardian saying that is  _ wonderfully _ applicable to the situation, I believe,” Loki says, his fingers brushing light, lazy circles that are starting to make you feel a little desperate. _ “‘These violent delights have violent ends.’ _ Are you familiar with the phrase? Let us endeavor to see  _ how _ violent.”

And you don’t manage to hold back a moan, then, because he’s pressed his fingers inside of you, and suddenly standing upright is an almost impossible challenge.

You try to imagine how ridiculous he probably looks to distract yourself, his tall, lean frame awkwardly wrapped around your much-smaller form to manage the angle he’s found. But, unfortunately, the mental image you conjure up is  _ much _ more enticing than ridiculous, and your muscles spasm.

“Oh, I  _ felt _ that,” he whispers in your ear, and you decide right then that you  _ hate _ him. He squeezes your captured fingers one last time, then releases them, and you’re horrified to realize that you can’t let go of the tiller.

“I put my  _ complete _ trust in you, Captain.” It’s the first time he’s ever used your title, you’re pretty certain. “In your  _ capable _ hands, I have no doubt that we shall arrive in one piece.”

He’s using his magic on you. That’s one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s  _ biggest _ conditions for working with the God of Mischief, and he’s breaking it just to get into your pants. You could have him sent to the dungeons of Asgard in chains for this, if you wanted.

If you  _ survive _ this, that is. You’ve never thought of yourself as an adrenaline junkie, but the rush of Loki  _ finally _ touching you combined with the fact that you might very well crash a _ freaking spaceship _ is… overwhelmingly  _ electric. _

Now that he doesn’t have to bother with holding your hand on the tiller, he’s free to seize your throat, a contradictorily-dominant move, considering the slow, almost languid rhythm of his fingers. You struggle to keep your eyes from fluttering closed.

“Captain, pay attention.” His voice is pleasant, and far too light for the situation. “We will pass a pocket in space in only a moment, and if you stray from our course—” he gives a particularly hard thrust, and your breath escapes in a strangled whine “— we might end up somewhere  _ terribly _ dangerous.”

“Or stranded together on some harsh, barren world,” he continues, his cool breath tickling your ear, “forced to rely on each other for survival, for  _ warmth.” _

Your breath - and indeed, your entire body - is shaky now, and some part of you, too far gone to be embarrassed or shy any longer, wants to simply  _ beg _ him to throw you down on the floor and let you come. The  _ other _ part of you is stubborn enough to resist.

“My  _ pretty _ little captain, who has teased me most cruelly from the  _ very _ beginning.” His grip tightens on your throat, his movements become more hurried. “Did you truly think it clever, mortal, to tempt a god?”

_ “No.” _ You’re biting your lip with painful force, now, and you pray that he was only joking about the pocket in space, because you have no idea what trajectory you’re even  _ supposed _ to be on any longer. Your skin is humming, every fiber of your being perfectly poised to fall into something rather spectacular.

_ “No?” _ Loki laughs, and despite the odd way he’s leaned over to press inside of you, you can feel his hardness against your back. Driven by some primal, hazy instinct, you can’t help but arch into his touch, and he lets out a pleased little grunt, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear. “Do you still wish for me to stop talking,  _ Captain?” _

His voice is sin, and you’re already burning.

_ “No.” _ It’s a whimper, and you’re sure that you’ll be ashamed of the neediness of it later, but right now… right now, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Are you certain?”

Yeah, you definitely hate him.  _ “Yes,”  _ you whine.  _ “Please, _ Loki, don’t stop talking.”

There’s a tiny sting as he nips at your ear, and you shudder. At least you aren’t the  _ only _ one who’s breathing heavily, which is something to be proud of, you guess. 

A golden light begins to flicker frantically on the dash, but Loki’s movements only become more insistent. “Oh, dear,” he sighs. “We are on a collision course, Captain. I fear that you are not fit to command the ship in your current state.”

Part of you starts to panic, while the other part is simply chanting,  _ so close so close so close… _

And then all of the workplace-friendly pleasantry is completely  _ gone, _ his voice turning into a snarl that nearly makes your heart stop. “I suppose I have no choice but to let you  _ come.” _

And when you  _ do, _ you aren’t entirely certain at first if the blinding white light that engulfs you is all in your head, or if you’ve  _ actually _ wrecked the ship and died. 

As the world comes crashing back down around you, you realize that Loki’s entirely supporting your weight, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other on the tiller. He reaches up and taps a few shining buttons overhead, and the little golden light turns white.

“What… what is that?” you gasp, still trying valiantly to reclaim your breath.

“Autopilot,” he replies with a grin, flipping another switch overhead, and then he begins dragging you back towards the hold.

You blink slowly, your mind still racing to catch up to the present. When it does… “There’s… there’s an  _ autopilot?”  _ you cry, outraged.

Loki snickers. “Of course there is. Did you truly believe that an Asgardian ship would not be equipped with such basic technology?”

“You… you…”

“Go on,” he urges, shoving you against the wall so that you can finally look him in the eyes.  _ “What _ am I, mortal?”

There’s a dark, predatory glint there, one that you’ve never quite seen before, and your throat goes dry, your mind conjuring up all  _ sorts _ of terrible images of what that look might promise.

“That is what I  _ thought. _ Now come along.” He grabs you by the collar, dragging you after him on still-trembling legs. “I am not  _ finished _ with you yet.”

 


End file.
